The Wandering Knave of the Seven Seas: The Voyage of Neptune's Mermaids

Chapter Three: The Man from the Confessional

 

 

I'd like to note that this chapter and the ones prior have not yet been cloesly edited. Please, if you see anything in particular, tell me and I can fix it as soon as possible.

And on another note, "A very merry un-birthday to you!"

 

 

The scent of freshly baked pastry drifted up from the kitchen, attracting the attention of the manor’s guests. Servants bustled about, tidying up after the late night’s festivities and readying the drawing room for after-breakfast activities. Busy as they were, only a few glanced up as I slipped past them, pulling on my gloves in a hurry. I spared them a smile in return as I rushed towards my mistress’ room.

 

She was waiting for me in front of her mirror, inspecting her flawless skin up close. I had made it a habit to walk in late and find her where she was now. For someone so beautiful, my mistress certainly fretted too much about her appearance. Her long blonde hair hung down near her waist, still tied up in the plait from last night. Her bright blue eyes were wide, her cheeks rosy against her pale skin and her pink lips pursed. She was delicate, but she was strong and determined. Stubborn, even.

 

“You are late,” Abigail’s voice was musical, even when it held that hint of contempt, “Again.”

 

I bowed my head. “Yes, Miss. I apologize, Miss.”

 

Abigail rolled her perfect blue eyes and turned her attention back to her reflection. “No matter it now. Come here and help. The Ladies are awaiting me downstairs.”

 

“Yes, Miss.” I muttered. I stepped towards her, picking up the brush on the way over to her. Her silky hair fell through my fingers as I ran the brush through it, and I marvelled at how spectacular she looked. I flicked my eyes up against my better wishes and glimpsed us both in the mirror. Once more, I was startled at the comparison. Where Abigail’s hair was long and pale blonde, mine was cropped short just above my shoulders and a deep chocolate brown. My eyes were hazel, and missing the sparkle that Abigail’s possessed and where Abigail was healthy pale, I was sickly pale. We were both thin, but I was more unhealthily so.

 

I turned away quickly, disgusted at myself. This was why I refused to look at my reflection when it was so closely compared to Abigail’s. A glimmer of frustration at myself shot through me, but I ignored it and instead focused on painting Abigail’s face.

 

Half way through finishing, Abigail spoke up, startling me, “You saw them, didn’t you?”

 

I paused, flicking my eyes nervously up to Abigail. “Beg your pardon, Miss?”

 

“The Pirates,” Abigail said, confirming my suspicions. I hesitated again, waiting for her to continue. I assumed that my leaving late at night and my absolute fascination with the Pirates would lead my Mistress to guess I went to see them. However, I couldn’t be sure. As vain as Abigail was, she did have the intelligence to make educated guesses. “Don’t play coy with me. I know you left late last night, and to do what with your time is not my business. However, I would like to know if you did seem them. In the streets, perhaps?”

 

“I did, Miss. On the streets.” A white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone.